Blood Bath
by ArtemisIsMyMuse
Summary: The Grimm/Blutbad relationship is explored with some unique twists and turns.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This story is the product of several sleepless nights. I started writing it as a type of mental "palate cleanser," and it sort of took on a life of its own. I've read many of the Grimm Fan Fics, which inspired me to write my own. No creative infringement on my part is intentional. It's my first post, so reviews and constructive criticism are welcomed and appreciated. Warning, the story is rated M for a reason and the characters are a bit OOC. I decided to write a real hardcore, blutbad-on-steroids type of Monroe, so proceed with caution. I also flipped the Grimm upside down on "his' head. I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. **

**And away we go…**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Grimm series, characters, story lines, etc. Or any of the song titles or lyrics.**

**Chapter One: The Dog Days are Over**

The Grimm trudged through the rain slick parking lot, through ankle-deep puddles that soaked shoes and pant hems with frigid wetness. It had been raining nonstop for over a week. The relentless, icy rain brought with it a clammy, pervasive fog and a bone-chilling dampness that seemed immune to any attempts to ward it off. The drive to work was slow going due to the inclement weather. When the Grimm finally arrived at the precinct, all of the good parking spaces were already occupied. Forced to park in the far flung reaches of the precinct parking lot, the Grimm began the 15 minute walk to the office. The Grimm did not mind the walk, it allowed time for reflection before the long day started, and the cold breeze cleared the brain of extraneous thoughts.

For a while now, the Grimm's instincts had been working overtime. The neophyte Grimm was jumpy and distracted, and in this line of work (Cop and Grimm), that could get you killed. Every shadowy space held a threat, every dark alleyway led, in the Grimm's imagination, to some unseen, monstrous foe. But Aunt Marie told the Grimm to trust instincts, to be in tune with the "sixth sense" that all Grimm's possessed. The Grimm's instincts did not detect outright hostility, but on the other hand, they didn't detect goodwill either. It was troubling. Almost everywhere the Grimm went, work, home, the grocery store; a presence seemed to follow. The only reprieve from the invisible interloper seemed to be when the Grimm went to visit Monroe. Eddy Monroe, the Grimm's Blutbad friend and confidante. He was the only living person that the Grimm could confide in. The Grimm had started spending more and more time at Monroe's place. At first, the Grimm would swing by the Blutbad's house to discuss a creature-related case, but as time progressed, the Grimm found other reasons to go see Monroe: on Monroe's front steps late at night with a bag of greasy Chinese take-out in hand, coffee and croissants in the park, a cup of hot green tea at midnight in Monroe's living room. Monroe was important to the Grimm, and not just for his creature knowledge either. Walk slowing, the Grimm grappled with feelings that were difficult to qualify.

The Grimm stopped before the glass doors of the precinct, reflection staring back. Eyes traveled down the slim form, cataloging the attire- black leather jacket, dark jeans and black boots with a platform heel. The eyes finally rested on the face. Pretty features were discernible underneath the ebony mop of long hair and the wet bangs plastered across the forehead. Large, faded blue eyes, the color of the washed-out sky, were outlined with lush black lashes. Full red lips slanted in a slight frown. The Grimm sighed and entered the building. Something was not right, something in fact, was very wrong. The Grimm felt the presence again, like a subtle shift in the atmosphere. Instincts screamed danger, a battle cry reverberated in the Grimm's skull. Yes, something ominous was lurking, waiting; and Nicole Burkhardt was going to figure out who or what it was, even if it killed her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it**

Nicole (Nick) Burkhardt was first and foremost a Grimm. It was programmed into her DNA, and when she came of age, her special abilities really kicked in. But Nick was also a cop in the Portland PD. When she was just fresh out of the academy, she landed a detective gig, making her the youngest female to do so in Portland PD history. She had two years on the force under her belt so far. For Nick, being a cop had always been as natural as breathing—instinctual and intuitive. It all made sense now: her stellar performance at the academy, a preternatural sixth sense, heightened awareness and fast reflexes. Grimm-enhanced performance.

After a long and grueling week (her current murder case involved a serial killer (human-version) most likely), the weekend finally arrived. Nick was ensconced in her small, but warm two bedroom home. A tiny blaze languished in the fireplace, long forgotten by the Grimm. She stood by the window, sipping a mug of green tea, watching the rain drizzle in the streets, lost deep in thought. It flared again, that feeling of being watched, stalked. _But by what_? It was maddening. Nick was a Grimm, albeit a neophyte Grimm, but a hunter and slayer nonetheless. She wasn't prey for some unknown adversary. Clouds shifted, blotting out what little moonlight was visible, plunging the street and her front yard into darkness. Something moved outside, a flicker in her peripheral vision. She turned her head to look and saw nothing. Something was definitely out there; in the darkness, of the darkness, and when it breathed out, the Grimm felt her body go cold, gooseflesh running down her arms. A foreign feeling bubbled in her chest. At first unrecognizable, Nick realized it was fear. _She was afraid_. In the past year, she had faced all sorts of unspeakable, unimaginable monsters, both Wesen and human alike, and never had she felt even an inkling of fear. But this was different—this was—she searched around for the right word, personal. Whatever was out there, it knew her, wanted her, and was coming for her. Nick would be ready, or so she thought.

Nick's cell phone rang, jolting her from her reverie. She looked down at the number, it was Monroe. "Hi, Monroe."

"Hey, sorry to be calling so late, but I was in the neighborhood, and I thought I'd give you a call. Can I swing by?"

"Um," Nick began.

"I have donuts."

"Well, in that case, come on over. I'll make coffee."

In the kitchen, Nick's thoughts turned to the creatures she hunted, Wesen, as Monroe referred to them. She had one particular Wesen on her mind. Nick wasn't sure how to handle her growing feelings for Monroe. She valued his friendship above all else. If she expressed sentiments that he might not feel inclined to reciprocate, she could ruin their friendship. That was not a risk she was willing to take. Life without Monroe was not something she wanted to contemplate. So, what was a Grimm to do? _Why don't you continue doing what you've been doing?—Playing your little mind games with the Blutbad, _a voice in her head suggested_. _It was true; she had been perpetrating her own form of psychological terrorism against the Blutbad for a few months now. It was difficult to reconcile her human feelings for the Blutbad with her Grimm instincts that demanded she dispatch him. _Unrequited love and an arsenal of weapons—how romantic, _the voice snickered. Of course, she would never physically harm Monroe, but that didn't mean she couldn't act out her aggression and frustration in other ways—ways that she would readily admit were cruel and immature. _So high school. _And if Nick were to continue to be honest about her feelings, at the heart of all of it would be a singular desire to see the side of Monroe that he kept meticulously contained. Wasn't that what it really boiled down to?—a yearning to see Monroe go _full-Blutbad_: all claws, and teeth, and savage desire. A narrative, in which the Grimm would have every right to exert her dominance over the feral Blutbad, had evolved over the months into a lush, and at times, depraved, scenario. _She should leave the poor beast alone and dismiss this ridiculous fantasy_, she admonished herself. Let Monroe enjoy his sedate life with his clocks, and Pilates and vegan meals.

Within minutes, there was a knock at her front door. "Wow, that was fast! When you said that you were in the neighborhood, you meant it." Monroe just gave her a lopsided grin and walked inside.

"Why don't you have a seat in the living room, and I'll fetch the coffee." Monroe made his way to the living room as directed and placed the donut box on the coffee table. Seating himself on the couch, he detected the faint scent of a foreign male. Scenting his surroundings, he determined that the odor was definitely that of a human male. Nick reappeared carrying two mugs of steaming hot coffee. "Here you are," she said, extending one of the mugs to Monroe. He just sat there, though, staring at her with an odd look on his face. "Are you alright?" she inquired. Nick moved closer to the Blutbad, her hand floating towards his face. She seemed to realize what she was going to do and dropping her hand, quickly veered off to the right and sat down next to Monroe.

"Have you been entertaining?" He asked with that same odd expression on his face.

"W-what?" the Grimm responded, perplexed.

"Entertaining," he enunciated slowly.

"Well," she hesitated. The Blutbad shifted, tensed. Sensing his agitation, she continued swiftly. "A new detective joined our unit a couple of months ago. I was chosen to assist with his orientation and training. Hank's been heads down with the Stark case, so I've been handling most of David's training. One night, about a week ago, we were working late at the precinct. We still had a load of paperwork to complete, so I told him that I would just take it home and work on it over dinner. He offered to cook dinner if I would complete the documentation. I couldn't refuse that offer; you know how dangerous I am in the kitchen. So he cooked and I did paperwork. I think he's lonely" she reflected. "His girlfriend, Juliette, recently broke up with him."

"Are you attracted to him?" Monroe asked quietly.

Nick was taken aback somewhat by the question, and her desire to sooth his agitation was wearing thin. "He's attractive, no doubt, but I don't_ think_ that I am attracted to him," she replied cagily. _If Monroe was going to grill her, _she thought; _then she was going to have some fun with it_. "You know, David and I were thinking about going to see that new action flick Friday, would you like to come? We could make it a double date; I believe David has a sister who is still single." Smiling mischievously, Nick picked up her coffee mug and took a sip. "Should I take your lack of response as silent consent?" The Grimm wanted to scream with laughter, teasing the Blutbad was deliciously delightful.

"He wants to fuck you," he murmured.

"Why would you say a thing like that?" The Grimm had never heard Monroe use such language. Placing the mug back on the table, she turned and faced him. His eyes were crimson and the pointed tips of his fangs rested on his lower lip. "Hey, just kidding over here! Really, I was joking about the movie and the double date," she said, eyes wide with alarm. Well, she wanted a reaction and she got one.

Fast as a rattlesnake, the Blutbad shot his hand out and grabbed the Grimm's wrist. Pulling her close, he placed his other hand behind her head and leaned in for a kiss. Nick's lips were full and soft; Monroe deepened the kiss. His tongue ran gently over the seam of her lips, requesting entry, which she granted. Her mouth was sweet and hot, and Monroe's head swam with the scent and taste and touch of the Grimm. Still kissing, Nick climbed into Monroe's lap, she could feel his arousal and pressed down on top of it, hips grinding. Monroe pulled back, "Don't start something you have no intention of finishing," he growled harshly.

"Okay, let's—not then." Monroe's inner wolf stalked off to go snarl in a corner, while the Grimm stood up and walked into the kitchen. "I'm going to make some more coffee, want some?" Receiving no reply, she shrugged her shoulders and busied herself at the coffee maker. A set of powerful arms wrapped themselves tightly around her, one arm around her hips, the other around her breasts. In a quiet, controlled voice, the Blutbad spoke: "I know you enjoy teasing me, but didn't your mother ever teach you not to taunt wild animals. It's not nice, and oftentimes, can be lethal." Kissing the point where her neck and shoulder met, he then ran his tongue up the side of her pale neck. The Grimm's eyes closed, and she gripped the counter to steady herself. She registered the absence of his arms just as she heard the front door shut. Turned on as she was, she would not go after him. If her goal was to frustrate and alienate the Blutbad, then this evening she could definitively declare: _Mission accomplished_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: So what do you think of our dysfunctional couple? An ill-behaved Grimm and a jealous Blutbad—I have a feeling that they're going to be a rather incendiary pair.**

**Warnings: Violent content and some strong language. **

**Spoilers: "Game Ogre" was the inspiration for this chapter, but I have made modifications to the episode to support my story line. **

**Chapter 3:** **But it's a special death you saved for me**

If he couldn't get to Hank Griffin directly, then he would use his partner to flush him out. Stark had been sitting in his truck down the street from Nick's house for a while now, waiting for her guest (Monroe) to leave. Finally, at around midnight, Stark saw a guy emerge from the house, get in his car and drive off. Exiting the truck, he started to walk toward the Grimm's house. As he got closer, he picked up speed until he was headed for the front door at full tilt.

Meanwhile, Nick was cleaning up in the living room before heading off to bed. With a deafening sound like a horrendous crack of thunder, the front door exploded, wood and glass projectiles flying into the room. A stray piece of glass sliced the Grimm's cheek, leaving a deep cut. Time seemed to slow down as her brain sped up to process the data and stimuli it was suddenly flooded with. In an instant, she sized up the monstrous intruder: approximately seven feet tall, muscular, face freakishly deformed. She had never seen his like before. She needed a weapon; the lamp on the end table would have to do. Wielding it like a bat, she swung the lamp at the intruder's head; it shattered against his unyielding skull. Unfazed, Stark grabbed Nick and threw her on the coffee table with such force that it crumpled beneath her. She felt her ribs splinter, but she had to move, to lie still meant her death. _Get up! _Scrambling to her feet, she exchanged several blows with Stark. The son-of-a bitch was tough; she might as well have been sparring with a cement wall. Stark took the blows in stride, but Nick did not fare so well. Blood poured out of her nose and mouth, and her internal organs felt like mush. Grimm instinct's shouted in her head- _you can't win this fight! This thing, whatever it is, is going to eat your lunch. _She had to extricate herself from this melee now. Stumbling into the kitchen, Stark on her heels, she grabbed the hot pot of coffee and flung it into his eyes. Screaming in agony, Stark fled the house. Nick managed to dial 911, right before she passed out.

His cell phone was ringing. With bleary eyes, Monroe looked at the clock and registered the time. _Who the hell calls at 1:00 in the morning? _He thought with a snort. "Monroe," he answered.

"Mr. Monroe, this is detective Hank Griffin, Nick's partner. She's been involved in a physical altercation and has been rushed to the hospital." The detective's voice faded away as Monroe tried to process what he was saying. _ Altercation? Hospital? He had just seen Nick a few hours ago… _

"Mr. Monroe? Are you there?"

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry."

"Well, as I was saying, Nick had you listed as her emergency contact, so I wanted to give you a call. They took her to Portland Community Hospital. I'll meet you there." Before Monroe could respond, Hank had hung up.

Monroe arrived at the hospital and when he asked to see Detective Nick Burkhardt, was directed to intensive care. Outside her room, an armed policeman stood guard, and when he walked in, he found that she was not alone. Detective Griffin and Sergeant Wu were off in a corner speaking in hushed tones. Sitting close to Nick was a young, attractive man with dark hair and gray-blue eyes. Monroe hated him instantly and suspected who he was even before being introduced. Looking up upon Monroe's entrance, the young man said, "Hi, you must be Nick's friend, Monroe. I'm David", he stated, extending his hand. Monroe ignored his greeting and his hand. Moving closer to the bed, Monroe was shocked at what he saw. An assortment of tubes and sensors were attached to a body that looked like it had no right to still be breathing. Cuts, bruises, swelling, and bandages covered the Grimm. Placing a gentle hand on her arm, Monroe whispered, "What happened?"

"We think it was Stark. Broke into her home a little after midnight. From what we can tell, a fight ensued. Somehow Nick was able to fend him off and then call 911 before she lost consciousness." David then inventoried her injuries for Monroe: concussion, eight cracked ribs, deep laceration to her right side, bruised kidneys… Monroe could no longer hear the young detective's voice; he was too lost in his own personal hell of rage and guilt. He never should have left, never should have given up so easily. If he hadn't, he would have been there to defend his mate; and although he had never voiced the sentiment, Monroe already thought of the Grimm as his mate. Monroe dropped heavily into a chair next to the bed, an intense look on his face as he surveyed the Grimm. It took all of his will-power and mental discipline not to Blutbad right there in the hospital room. _Patience_, he counseled himself. He would find whoever assaulted his mate and exact his revenge.

Deciding to give Monroe a little alone time with Nick; the young detective stood up and walked over to join Hank and Sergeant Wu. _After I take care of Nick's attacker, maybe I should dispatch that little fuck while I'm at it, _Monroe mused.

"You gonna stay here for a while?" Hank asked Monroe.

Monroe looked up, "Yah, I wasn't planning on going anywhere."

"Good. We're going to return to the precinct, start working some leads and see if we can hunt this bastard down." The three cops left, and the room was silent except for the beeping and other electronic sounds of the medical equipment. Monroe sat by the Grimm's bedside all night; his mind flush with anger and disturbing thoughts. Having been heavily sedated, the Grimm did not stir until near dawn. Jerking and whimpering in her sleep, Monroe reached out to comfort her. His touch was gentle, his words calming. Nick opened her eyes with a start, they were wide and glassy. "Hey, it's okay", Monroe soothed. Her anxiety was palpable. "It's okay," he repeated.

"Monroe," she rasped. He wanted to weep; instead, he bent over and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. He nuzzled her jaw and neck, her scent barely discernible beneath the antiseptic stench that coated her skin.

"Tell me, who did this to you, was it Stark?"

"Yes," it was a whisper, as was the description of her attacker. Monroe proceeded to tell her that she had been attacked by a Siegbarste, an ogre-like creature. They were very hardy, virtually impossible to kill and she was lucky to be alive. There was a rare poison, Siegbarste gift, which could be used to take down Stark. In the trailer, Nick recalled seeing a tiny bottle of the poison and the elephant gun with an ogre engraving. After extracting a promise from Monroe that he would get the gun and poison into Hank's hands, Nick fell back asleep. Monroe stayed with her all day, until dusk crept into the room and Monroe decided he could no longer delay his trip to the trailer.

Later that evening, Monroe watched from his concealed position as Hank and Stark faced off. Loading the gun and raising it to eye level, Monroe waited for his opportunity to fire. It came quickly. Hank was on the ground, Stark lifting a small boulder over his head, preparing to crush Hank's skull. Monroe fired; his aim was true and lethal. Stark fell back, dead before he hit the ground. The wolf in Monroe would have loved to celebrate his kill. Tear the lifeless body limb from limb, and then feed on the flesh and blood of the creature that had harmed his mate. Hank's presence made that desire impossible to realize, so Monroe packed up the gun and headed back to the trailer. After replacing the gun and ensuring that the trailer was locked, Monroe returned to the hospital to share the news with Nick.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:** **By the light of the silvery moon**

Three days later, Nick was released from the hospital. The doctor was amazed by her rapid progress; of course, he wasn't privy to the fact that Grimms had superior healing abilities. But despite her excellent progress, Nick still had a ways to go before she was one hundred percent again. Monroe was working a job on the other side of town and had arranged to pick her up at 5pm.

David, the young detective, stopped by the hospital to look in on Nick. Walking into her room, he found her dressed and her overnight bag partially packed. She turned when she heard him enter. "Hi there. Come to check up on me again?"

"Well, we both know that you are a magnet for trouble. Somebody has to keep an eye on you," he said with a smile. _You don't know just how right you are, _Nick thought.

"I thought you weren't being discharged until later today," he said as he helped her pack the final remaining items.

"The doctor's schedule changed and he discharged me early. Monroe is occupied, so I was going to grab a cab home." Nick had to sit down; even this mild exertion was exhausting.

"Forget the cab. Let me drive you home. No offense, but you look like you're ready to keel over."

"Thank you for offering, but I don't want to inconvenience you."

"It's no inconvenience whatsoever, really. I have some free time before I have to be back at the station, so let me take you home. Don't you want to get outta here?"

A weak smile graced her lips, "Yah, I do." She paused. "Okay, let's go." _I'll give Monroe a call and let him know to meet me at the house instead, _she thought. David returned her smile and helped her out to his car. Within thirty minutes, Nick was home, reclining on her sofa, and David was busy in the kitchen preparing her a snack.

David was a good buddy, Nick thought, easy to hang out with. She enjoyed his company. He returned to the living room with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a glass of milk. "Yum, PB&J, my favorite. Thank you."

"Well, it was pretty slim pickings in that kitchen of yours. I'm not a miracle worker."

"Hey, I'm not complaining." She smiled mildly. David always loved to see Nick smile. In his opinion, it made her face, which he thought was already impossibly beautiful, even more so. They continued to chitchat while she ate.

"Before I forget, what time am I picking you up Friday night?"

"Excuse me?" Nick asked incredulously.

"Friday was supposed to be movie night if you recall. I hope you're not going to use this minor setback as an excuse to stand me up."

"Well, unless you plan on showing up with a gurney, I doubt I'll be in any condition…" She trailed off, David was laughing. "Oh, I get it now. That was your attempt at being funny. You're hysterical." David's laughter was infectious though, and she could not help but join in. Nick realized it was a big mistake too late. A sharp pain shot through her side, leaving her gasping and clutching at her ribs. The return of the raging pain in her ribs was all the cue that she needed to know it was time for her meds. David jumped up and hustled off to the kitchen to grab Nick's meds and a glass of water and then quickly returned to her side. The strong painkillers she had been given made her very sleepy. She tried to concentrate on what David was saying, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. She yawned deeply.

"Am I boring you?" He joked.

"No, not at all, it's these meds, they knock me out."

"Get some rest." David looked at his watch; it was later than he thought. "I guess I should get going." It was spoken reluctantly. "If you need anything at all, call me, okay?"

Groggily, Nick promised to call and thanked him again. Shutting the front door quietly behind him, David hoped he would receive that call.

Monroe was running late, the job took longer than he had anticipated. Trying Nick's cell—he had called several times already—it rolled over to voice mail again. When he reached the hospital, he was surprised to find out that she had been discharged and had left several hours ago. He was more concerned than annoyed that she hadn't called. No matter, he would just drive over to her place. As he was approaching the Grimm's house, he saw the door open and the young detective emerge. Pulling over to the side of the street, Monroe watched as he made his way to his car. David stopped and looked back at Nick's door, a look of longing flashed across his face, and with a sigh, he got into his car and drove off. Before conscious thought could acknowledge what he was doing, Monroe found himself tailing the young detective in his car. Heart hammering in his chest, blood searing his veins, the wolf was in full control. Another male was loitering on his territory, wooing his mate. The wolf decided that it would have to remedy that situation tonight. Blutbad were extremely territorial and possessive, and an Alpha would never allow another male to exist within his domain.

David decided to run home to change before heading to the precinct. Pulling up to his house, he parked in the driveway and hurried inside, completely unaware that he was being stalked by a creature that only his nightmares could envision. He changed quickly in the upstairs bedroom, admonishing himself for running late. Tackling the stairs at top speed, he ran downstairs and was about to go out the front door when he heard a noise in the living room. Kicking himself for leaving his gun holster in the car, he slowly and silently moved forward. The living room was dark, and it took some time for his eyes to adjust, but he could see it, the shadowy figure of a man, a very large man, sitting in a chair on the far side of the room. "Who are you and what are you doing in my house?" He asked, his voice stern and commanding. The only response he received was a low, throaty growl. _What the fu—was that a growl? _David thought. The sound, so primal, sent an involuntary shiver down his spine. "I'm going to give you to the count of three to stand up and put your hands behind your head. I'm a cop and I'm armed. One," he began.

"No, you're not," the stranger's voice mocked. It was oddly familiar.

"Monroe? David sounded relieved. "Hey man, you gave me a real start there. Is everything okay with Nick?" His voice was edged with worry.

"Nick's not your concern," he barked. "If I were you, I'd be a little more occupied with my own physical wellbeing." Monroe continued in a quieter tone. "I told her that you wanted to fuck her, and I was right. The Grimm is mine. You should know better than to go sniffing around another's man mate," he murmured. David appeared utterly confused by these statements. _Grimm, mate? What the hell was he talking about?_

The chair that Monroe sat in was near a window. Up until that point in their discussion, the moon had been hidden behind a swirling mass of evening clouds. Emerging from the cloud cover, the moon shed its light upon a visage that took the young detective's breath away. His mouth worked, but no sound emerged. Monroe smiled; he enjoyed seeing the horror and abject fear that distorted the younger man's pretty face. Monroe gripped the arms of the chair and stood up. David backed up slightly, but caught himself; he wouldn't be intimidated in his own home. "I think it would be best if you left immediately. If you need an armed escort, I'll be happy to oblige," he spoke with false bravado.

"We both know that you're not armed. Your sidearm is tucked away safely in your vehicle. Tsk, tsk. Not very prepared tonight, are we, detective," Monroe sneered. David started to turn toward the front door; he had to get to his weapon. Monroe crouched down, and with a mighty leap, was on top of the detective. They hit the floor in unison. Monroe pulled his arm back, and then his fist was flying at David's face. It impacted brutally with his jaw, shattering bone, tearing muscles and tendons, leaving the detective's lower jaw hanging by a few sinewy threads. Horrible gurgling sounds issued from the detective's throat as he choked on his own blood. Monroe wasn't able to appease the inner beast when he took down Stark, but tonight would be different. He would feast on blood and flesh until the inner wolf was sated.

Two hours later, the Blutbad had showered and donned a fresh set of clothes. The wolf was fully entrenched now. Reason and logic had been banished; only hunger and instinct remained. He got into his car and headed for the Grimm's house.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:** **That her face at first just ghostly, turned a whiter shade of pale**

The Blutbad tossed his head back and sniffed the air. The Grimm's scent hung heavy in the air. Silently, he approached the figure sleeping on the couch. Long, dark hair radiated from a face so pale and ashen that the Blutbad would have thought the Grimm dead if not for the regular heartbeat he could detect from across the living room. The Grimm was still grievously wounded and healing slowly. Her plentiful injuries had taken their toll. Each breath she took was accompanied by a painful, shuttering exhalation. Upon closer examination, the Blutbad could see deep purple bruises mottling the right side of the Grimm's face. The bruises ran down the pale column of her throat and continued beneath the collar of her shirt. Although he could not see them, the Blutbad knew that several cracked ribs were tightly wrapped beneath the loose-fitting shirt. The terrible wound inflicted on the Grimm's side still wept blood, which seeped through the bandages and left a small stain on her shirt. The Blutbad breathed in the heady scent of blood, and had to aggressively tamp down the desire to consume the Grimm right then and there. _That would not do_, the Blutbad thought, a wolfish smirk on his face. He would take his time and enjoy his meal, every inch of it.

The Grimm awoke face down on her bed, not knowing how she got there. _Damn drugs!_ The painkillers the doctors had given her were strong, and their potency was only enhanced by her Grimm metabolism. Casting bleary eyes around the dark bedroom (the lights were off and the curtains drawn tight), she sensed a presence in the shadows. Although it made no sound, she could tell that it was approaching the bed. She could feel the heat that radiated off of its body. A cold sheen of perspiration covered her skin, partly from the pain she felt now that the painkillers had worn off, and partly from mind-unhinging fear. She was badly hurt, and that made her vulnerable. Then its scent hit her, strangely redolent. It smelled of the woods, and musk and earth. Recognition hit her with brute force and she whispered a single word. "Monroe?"

Grimms, as a species, have excellent vision, and even in the darkness, Nick's eyesight adjusted enough to take in Monroe's features. He stood before her, a beast of a man—but then again, one could argue that he really wasn't a man at all—two hundred and twenty five pounds of rippling muscle and clawed hands. Three inch fangs extended beyond his lower lip. Just as terrifying was the fact that each and every tooth in his mouth now ended in a wicked point. _My, what big teeth you have, _the Grimm thought. Suppressing a hysterical giggle, she allowed her eyes to travel up to the Blutbad's eyes; demonic did not begin to describe them. Blood red and intense, his eyes smoldered with a sentiment that the Grimm could not bear to acknowledge. Her mind shrank back from the intensity and the fierce longing they held, it was painful to behold. In that moment, Nick knew she had brought this upon herself. She had wanted Monroe to let go and loose his grip on humanity, on sanity. The months of taunting and teasing, of denial and, finally, rejection, had broken down the last bastions of restraint the Blutbad had possessed. Humanity was a distant voice in his head that had faded a little more with each passing day. But she wanted this, right? Why regret it now that her wish had become reality? And as for the Blutbad, he had fallen in love with the Grimm the day she broke down his door. The Grimm entered his life and common sense departed.

Rejection, it was a bitter pill that had left its bad taste in Monroe's mouth. Didn't the Grimm realize that everything he had done since he met her had been for her benefit? He had risked his life for her on more occasions than he could recount now. He had divulged secrets to her about the Wesen world and its inhabitants. All of this information and help extended to a Grimm. A Grimm for pity's sake! A creature that hunted and killed his kind, in fact, his own grandfather had been slaughtered by a Grimm years ago. Didn't Nick understand the sacrifices he made on her behalf? He had gone from reformed to transformed, how could she not notice? Monroe's physical transformation was staggering. His once lanky 6'4" frame was now covered in dense, striated muscle. Gone forever were the vegan meals, replaced by a diet high in animal protein. His Pilates workouts replaced with heavy weight training. Gone forever was the awkward, self-effacing sidekick of the Grimm. Monroe came from a long line of particularly ferocious, bloodthirsty Alpha Blutbads, which was why his reformed ways had been particularly distasteful to his family. For too long he had suppressed his natural instincts, ignored his proud heritage. No more. He would embrace who he was—an Alpha Blutbad. His family would be so proud.


	6. Chapter 6

**Dear Reader: I hope that you are enjoying the story so far and will continue to read, follow and review.**

**I would like to emphasize that the M rating (LSV) is highly appropriate for the situations contained within this chapter. If you find any of the content offensive; my sincerest apologies, but I am compelled to go where the Muses take me…**

**Chapter 6: Hungry like the Wolf**

The Blutbad's fingers began to pluck at the buttons of his flannel shirt, sharp nails scraping against plastic. The Grimm watched Monroe slowly disrobe. She told herself to look away, but perverse fascination made that impossible. Once shirtless, Monroe's hands moved to his waist where he proceeded to work on his belt and the fasteners on his jeans. Nick's eyes travelled the expanse of his muscular chest and desire pooled between her legs. There was no doubt in her mind that Monroe could smell her arousal. Pressing her face into a pillow, she shivered slightly when she heard the zipper of Monroe's jeans descend. Both belt and jeans hit the floor with a soft thud. "Look at me," he commanded. Her free will hijacked by lust, she turned her head to look at the Blutbad. A feral Adonis stood before her, and she was unable to suppress a moan. Monroe move closer to the bed, his scent engulfing the Grimm, causing her body to shake with need so profound that she almost cried out.

A single clawed finger ran from her ankle to her knee and back down again. The Grimm released a tiny whimper, though from fear or pain Monroe could not tell. A thin seam of blood bubbled to the surface of the Grimm's leg, and Monroe, now sitting on the edge of the bed, bent down and traced his tongue along its length. Smelling the Grimm's blood had been intoxicating, but the taste, it was beyond words, and the wolf demanded more. Moving to straddle her hips, Monroe gripped the Grimm's flimsy shirt and ripped it apart. Layers of bandages were visible, but Monroe ignored them for now. The Grimm's loose sweatpants and underwear were removed next. Palming her pale, firm bottom appreciatively, Monroe slowly transitioned his hands to the Grimm's belly and then down to her sex. He slipped two fingers between her folds, where they were drenched in a slick, hot wetness. _So his little Grimm was turned on_, he thought. Smirking, he tentatively dipped a finger into her pussy, and when the Grimm moaned, he added a second and then a third. Pulling out, he brought his fingers close to his nose and breathed in the musky scent of the Grimm's arousal. Each finger was then thoroughly cleaned off in his mouth before returning to the Grimm's core. Monroe repeated the series of movements several times, fingers delving deeper each time. "Monroe, please," Nick moaned over and over again. On one particularly deep thrust, Monroe's finger met resistance; the Grimm's barrier had never been broken. His inner wolf howled with delight. The Grimm would be his and only his, now and forever. No other, human or Blutbad, would ever know her like he did. She was his to mark, to possess, to consume. Leaning forward over her back, lips close to her ear, a growl deep in his throat, he spoke the word like a hallowed revelation, "Virgin."

Nick's body trembled with Monroe's declaration. It was true; she had never been touched in that way until now. Every atom in her body was aflame with desire. She shouldn't want Monroe in this way, but she did. Shifting slightly, she could feel his arousal pressed firmly against her bottom. The wolf was tired of being locked up, and Monroe felt inclined to let it come out to play. Monroe flipped the Grimm onto her back and then once again straddled her hips. The movement, though not rough, elicited a whimper of pain from deep within the Grimm's chest. From his pocket, Monroe removed the pen knife that he always carried and lowered it to the Grimm's chest. Wide-eyed she breathed, "Don't." Ignoring her plea, he slipped the knife under the bandages and cut upwards, watching as they slowly slid away to reveal the Grimm's breasts. Soft, porcelain white flesh met Monroe's eyes, and he could not suppress a groan. Bending his head to one of her rose-hued nipples—erect from exposure to the cold air—he gently suckled one and then the other. What little resistance Nick had left was quickly fading under Monroe's ministrations. He bit down hard on one of her nipples; Nick released a small sob of pain. Monroe's tongue laved her breast soothingly, and when he went to pull away, her hand moved to the back of his head, guiding it back to her breast. But before Monroe would continue, he needed to extract a confession from the Grimm first. Fisting her ebony locks, he held her tight and roughly kissed her lips.

"Tell me you want me. I know you do. I can sense it. I can _smell_ it." One of his hands slipped down to her breast and clawed the tender flesh, pinched and pulled the sensitive bud. "I've waited long enough, no more games," he growled. Nick was silent, deliberating.

"Tell me," he demanded impatiently. Another vicious pinch had her arching into his chest. "Y-yes," she stuttered. "I want you," the hint of a blush briefly tinting her cheeks pink. Seemingly satisfied with her admission, he allowed his tongue to trace a meandering path downwards to her sex. Spreading her legs wider and lifting her hips for a better angle, he inserted his tongue. Never had he tasted anything like it before. The Grimm was sweet, almost sugary, it drove him mad. Without further thought or preparation, Monroe reared up and thrust his hips forward, driving his rock-hard cock into the Grimm. A scream rent the stillness of the room. The Grimm felt as though she were being torn in two. Tears streamed down her pale face as she buried her nails into the Blutbad's shoulders. Monroe looked down at her anguished face, but the wolf would not be denied. He came here tonight to claim and fuck the Grimm, and he would not be deterred.

The Grimm felt amazing. Monroe was a big man, and his cock was not exempt. The tiny Grimm fit him like the tightest glove. He was only able to enter her about a third of the way, but even that was heavenly. The Grimm moaned and writhed beneath him, increasing his pleasure. "Stop, don't, not like this," she implored. _How many times had she envisioned this moment in her mind? How many different scenarios had she been able to imagine of their first time together? Monroe making love to her. Fucking her. Brutally plundering her body. Those were just fantasies, but this was real, too real. _"Stop," she pleaded again. Her words angered Monroe; she was rejecting him—again. Snarling, he shifted her hips upwards and viciously thrust his cock all the way in. She screamed, back arched, eyes shut tight. Monroe set a punishing pace, thrusting deep and hard with each stroke.

"I came here tonight to claim you as my mate. To fuck you. Mark you. Breed you." He pounded harder into the Grimm. The scent of sweat, blood and cum permeated the air, and drove the Blutbad to continue his assault. It hurt to speak, every word tore painfully through her battered chest, "You came here tonight to claim me or rape me? Filthy dog!" The Grimm was defiant, looking directly into Monroe's crimson eyes. He could see the accusations that resided in her eyes, felt her hatred at this moment, white-hot and unquenchable.

A voice, long dormant in Monroe's brain, re-exerted its control for a brief period. Ousted temporarily were the wolf and its baser nature, and in its place resided the last shred of humanity that Monroe still possessed. It spoke reason quietly but with conviction. _Don't do this, you can stop this, it's not too late. Come back, come back. You can return to your quiet, reformed life. She will forgive you, if you stop now. Beg forgiveness, and she will grant it, but only if you stop this madness now. _

The wolf whined, doubt stilling his aggression. Monroe lifted a hand and gently caressed the Grimm's cheek. His eyes were once again a warm brown hue, claws receded and fangs sheathed. The Grimm's heart flip-flopped seeing the sweet, gentle countenance of her Blutbad once again. He bent down for a kiss, but the Grimm turned her head away. Undeterred, he went to kiss her cheek when the Grimm snapped her head up and spit in his face. "FUCK YOU," she seethed. The Grimm could see the hurt in Monroe's eyes, the look of mortification on his face. Monroe raised a hand and wiped the spittle off of his face. With the same hand, he lashed out at the Grimm, razor sharp nails leaving four deep gouges down her right cheek and neck. A deep growl rumbled in the Blutbad's chest at the sight and scent of fresh blood, and his eyes were crimson once more. He was at her neck then, lapping at the blood that flowed fast and freely. Still reeling from the vicious strike, the Grimm could not suppress the scream that issued from her mouth when the Blutbad sank two dozen wickedly sharp teeth into her neck. Long, dagger-like teeth seemed to sink into her neck forever, stopping only when they penetrated her esophagus. The Grimm, unable to speak, wordlessly mouthed her agony while thick rivulets of blood seeped from the corners of her mouth. After the Blutbad had slaked his thirst at the neck of the Grimm, he pulled back to admire his handy work. From this point on, no one would ever question who the Grimm belonged to. He traced a sharp talon over the bite wound. His mark was upon her now, and the thought of that make him painfully hard.

Monroe nestled his aching cock between the Grimm's thighs and drove into her hard and deep. The Grimm lay limp and helpless, and allowed Monroe to extract his pound of flesh. She was too injured and felt too ill to resist any longer. Even in prime form, the Blutbad would have been a formidable adversary, and now, in this condition, all she could do was endure and hope for a shred of mercy from her lover. But mercy wasn't on the Blutbad's mind. Monroe fucked the Grimm raw. Sweating and grunting, he pummeled the Grimm, his assault on her tiny body unending. Unable to endure any longer, the Grimm's mind stepped out on a precipice and jumped.


	7. Chapter 7

**Interlude 1: No Chance for fate, it's unnatural selection**

_A note of explanation to the reader on the physiology of a Blutbad. _It is a well-known fact that Blutbaden, for various behavioral and biological reasons, mate exclusively within their own species. However, Mother Nature, not one to be stonewalled, incorporated into the Alpha Blutbad's physiology a unique blend of chemicals that could alter a non-Blutbad mate, so that he or she would then be compatible. These bio-chemicals are found in an Alpha Blutbad's blood, sweat, saliva, semen and tears_. _Even limited exposure to these blutbad-excreted substances can begin to alter the chosen mate's biochemistry. Modification occurs at the genetic level and is typically rapid and always irreversible. Note: The exact biological process—transport mechanism, induction, cellular division, etc., has not been studied, so little is known or understood about the process and resulting effects.

_A note of explanation to the reader on the psyche of a Grimm. _You see, the predicament that the Grimm found herself in was unnatural and unprecedented. Sure, Blutbaden and Grimms had duked it out over the centuries, sometimes the Grimm was victorious and sometimes not. But this situation, a Blutbad mating with a Grimm, it was unheard of. Wesen stayed clear of or killed Grimms, they didn't fuck them. And although the Grimm was attracted to Monroe, in fact, was in love with him, millennia of Grimm evolution did not teach her how to process such feelings. And her Grimm nature was certainly never prepared to deal with these unexpected feelings for a Blutbad and his aggressive and obsessive, but completely normal (for a Blutbad) advances. Grimms and Blutbaden fought to the death, they didn't fuck to the death. It was just too much to process and reconcile, so the Grimm—lethal killer, fierce warrior, Wesen eradicator—slipped away to lie dormant for a while. And what remained in her place was a vulnerable human female, who's very being—body and mind—was transforming into the perfect mate of a fairytale terror. But as the human male can attest, the human female is not without her own mad skills…


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's note: M rating (LSV).**

_...Unable to endure any longer, the Grimm's mind stepped out on a precipice and jumped. _

**Chapter 7: You're toxic, I'm slipping under**

She had fallen into the abyss, into oblivion. But it wasn't the cold, dark void that one would imagine. Red hot and suffocating, it grew tighter and tighter around her body—constricting and burning. In her dream-like state, Nick felt as though she could barely breathe. Fire raced through her veins, vaporizing her blood. A scarlet-tinged mist was all that remained to travel through her blood vessels, but her heart obediently continued its labors. She moaned and jerked in her unconscious state. In time, she would pass through this initial phase of transformation. Monroe, whose bloodlust and savage hungers were temporarily satiated, lay panting at her side and waited patiently for her to resurface.

Nick could feel the rapid changes occurring in her body and in her brain—the metamorphosis that would transform her into the perfect mate. Strangely enough, it was not a completely unpleasant process. The transformation was healing many of her injuries, so in some ways, she was physically improving. A shrill tone, like that of an alarm, reverberated in her head. Neurons fired in her brain, creating a fireworks pattern that danced behind her closed lids. Slowly—ever so slowly—the darkness was being supplanted by light, heat ousted by a chill air. Gradually, she opened her eyes. They flashed red briefly, and then retreated back to their icy blue pallor. Nick reached out her hand and placed it on Monroe's thigh, an electric current flowed between them. In that one touch, mind and flesh and desire were united. Grimm and Blutbad were now one. A craving for the man beside her manifested itself deep within her psyche, a visceral, all-consuming need that threatened to overwhelm her senses.

"Kiss me," she whispered; her voice the sweet, sexy lilt that Monroe adored. At first, Monroe thought he was hearing things. He positioned himself between Nick's legs and looked down at her. Raising a hand, the Grimm grasped the back of Monroe's head and brought his mouth down to hers, "Kiss me," she breathed against his lips. The wolf inside was still incensed from the Grimm's earlier rebuff, but its craving for her outweighed any indignation. Monroe crashed his lips to hers, his tongue plunging into Nick's mouth, their teeth scraping. Her oxygen quickly spent, Nick found herself gasping for air, but Monroe's assault on her mouth went unabated. Aroused again, he slid inside her. Monroe abandoned the long, hard thrusting motion of earlier in favor of slower, deeper thrusts that hit the Grimm's cervix each time and made her moan in acknowledgment. Kissing deeply, Monroe's tongue veered to each side of the Grimm's mouth and licked the path of drying blood, following it down to her chin. For several long minutes they continued to kiss. Nick slipped her tongue into Monroe's mouth and began to trace the outline of each sharp tooth. The pointy tips of Monroe's teeth left tiny rips in the Grimm's tongue, and soon her mouth was full of blood which she allowed Monroe to lap at. "Mine," he growled. _Mine, Mine, Mine, Mine, Mine. _Monroe suckled her tongue, not wanting to waste a drop of her precious blood. His kisses become more aggressive as the wolf exerted its influence and obsessive need for the Grimm. Pulling out of her, Monroe flipped Nick onto her belly. The Grimm's cracked ribs screeched in protest, but she was too lost to notice. Grabbing a pillow, the Blutbad placed it under her hips. Spreading her buttocks, he leered at her tight, pink pucker and slowly licked his lips. He pressed a talon-tipped finger against her pucker, and smiled when Nick issued a shocked little gasp. With a lewd smirk on his face, he bent forward to murmur in her ear. "Did you think that I would be satisfied just fucking your cunt? Could you possibly believe that I would not claim your body in every way imaginable? When our bonding process is finally complete, I will know you in ways that you cannot possibly fathom now but will in time."

Fisting his weeping cock with one clawed hand and running the other lightly up and down her spine, he positioned his cock at her nether entrance. Monroe slipped the head of his cock into her tight entrance and fucked it with shallow movements in and out. The Grimm groaned her discomfort. "Try to relax, it won't hurt as much," the Blutbad counseled. Closing her eyes, Nick managed to relax a bit, which was all the incentive that Monroe needed. He pulled his hips back and then thrust forward, ramming his hard cock all the way in. The Grimm's body convulsed and her internal muscles clamped down so tightly that it made the Blutbad howl in pain. Agony flooded Nick's brain and she blacked out for a few seconds. Sweet oblivion was quickly banished, though, as the Blutbad fucked through her tightened walls and was able to establish a steady rhythm. Monroe would pause every so often, cock buried to the hilt, to rub his testicles against the Grimm buttocks. "Fucking your cunt is amazing, but your asshole," his voice hitched as the Grimm's muscular walls contracted around him again, "fucking your asshole is awesome," he gushed. Nick started to slide towards the bed, unable to support herself any longer. Wrapping his arms around her chest, Monroe, still fully sheathed in the Grimm, pulled her up until her back rested against his chest. _So tight,_ his mind roared. Monroe had never performed anal intercourse until tonight, but he planned to include it in their nightly repertoire, whispering his intent into the Grimm's ear.

Monroe's cum, saliva and sweat coated Nick, ran through her system like wildfire, changing her physiology, transforming her Grimm DNA, forcing her Grimm nature to capitulate to her Alpha. Nick's mind was temporarily enthralled; coherent, independent thought was not possible. A voice inside her head was telling her to submit, and she acquiesced. In a tone that would not be audible to human ears, the Nick spoke: "Take me, mark me, fuck me. My body is yours to claim, I will never deny you again." The Grimm's admission stunned Monroe, but pleased the wolf immensely. He gripped her hips with vice-like claws, to steady his mind as much as his body. Her obsequiousness, though, would not purchase her any leniency nor assuage the Blutbad's depraved desires. _Yes, Monroe thought, the Grimm would never deny him again. _Monroe bowed his head to the Grimm's neck and ran his tongue over the bite mark. Her words echoed in his head, igniting his animalistic lust and he bit savagely into the wound. Sucking greedily, the Blutbad swallowed mouthfuls of blood, the Grimm mewing in pleasure. Cock still buried deep within the Grimm's rectum, Monroe felt that familiar tightening in his belly and knew his climax was near. Pulling away from the Grimm's neck, he tilted his head back and roared his release. Thick, hot streams of Blutbad cum poured into the Grimm's bowels; Monroe keening behind her as he rode the wave of his orgasm. Her body was pliant, an occasional shudder running through her the only sign of the pain or pleasure she felt; perhaps they were indistinguishable. He wanted so badly to breed Nick this night, but decided to save that pleasure for another time. The Grimm was far too spent at this point, and he wanted her to enjoy their first breeding session.

For two more hours the Blutbad continued to fuck and cum inside the Grimm. Finally, he pulled out. Nick's insides felt horribly distended—from the Blutbad's enormous cock and from the volume of ejaculate he had released into her body. She fell forward on her forearms, buttocks now fully visible to the Blutbad. Gazing down at her gaping entrance, he watched a combination of blood and cum drain from her body and run down her inner thighs. His tongue flicked out to take a tentative taste and liking it, he began to lap at the mixture in earnest. Frothy streams of bloody cum continued to spill out of the Grimm, and Monroe could not suppress a small smile when he looked at the Grimm's brutalized asshole. His Alpha nature had enjoyed subjugating the Grimm tremendously, and exerting his dominance over a creature that should be his mortal enemy was a potent aphrodisiac.

Monroe laid them both on their sides, urging the Grimm to rest. She had no problem complying and was fast asleep within minutes. The Blutbad curled protectively around the Grimm and covered their bodies with a thin blanket. In the morning, he would bathe her and tend to her many wounds. The Blutbad drifted off to sleep and dreamt of blood and pale, white flesh.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: This chapter went off on a weird tangent, methinks. Enjoy the madness.**

**Chapter 8:** **Leave love bleeding in my hands, in my hands again**

Monroe surveyed the near-empty fridge and knew he had to make a run to the supermarket. He hated the idea of leaving Nick alone. Four days had passed since their first "encounter", and although she was recovering rapidly, she was in no condition to make the trek to the store. Monroe walked into the living room where she was dozing on the couch and gently roused her. "Nick," a sleepy moan was the reply. "Love, I'm going to run to the supermarket. I won't be gone long, will you be okay?" The Grimm opened one eye, nodded and then pulled the blanket over her head. Monroe stood up and with one last look at the Grimm, left for the store.

As soon as the Blutbad was out the door, Nick slid off the sofa and made her way to the master bath on the second floor. After shutting and locking the door, she walked over to the tub, depressed the stopper and turned on the hot water. While the tub filled, she walked over to the vanity, rifled through one of the draws and pulled out a small, rectangular box, which she then placed on the edge of the bathtub. Several minutes later, the tub filled, her clothes discarded, the Grimm lowered herself into the steamy water. Mind clear and calm, she closed her eyes and relaxed.

Monroe conducted his shopping with rapidity. He wanted to return to the house, to his mate, as quickly as possible. The shopping cart was filled with an assortment of red meat, potatoes, rice, green tea and dark chocolate. He checked out, loaded up the car and was headed home in no time. As he drove the short distance, a feeling of unease descended upon him. As he got closer to home, the uneasy feeling evolved into panic, then despair and crested in anguish as he drove into the driveway. Jumping out of the car, he ran into the house. The Grimm was no longer in the living room. Eyes drifting up toward the ceiling, Monroe issued a guttural snarl and vaulted up the stairs.

At about the same time that Monroe had started driving back home, Nick had reached for the tiny box perched on the edge of the tub. Opening it, she withdrew a razor blade and held it up to the light, admiring its lethal sharpness from various angles. She knew that she didn't have much time, Monroe would return soon, so she had to act quickly. Turning her left forearm over, she exposed her pale wrist and traced the bluish pattern of veins with her right pinky finger. _Don't think, just do it! If you don't, you'll never be free of him. He will own you, possess you for the rest of your natural life, is that what you want_? A voice within her head screeched, a lunatic edge to it. Her Grimm persona had resurfaced and was forcefully asserting itself. _Do it, NOW! _ Without further delay, the Grimm raised the blade and brought it to her wrist. Suddenly, the muscles in her right arm constricted, and she was only able to make a shallow cut. Her body would not allow her to betray herself, to betray him! Self-murder was the ultimate act of betrayal that a Blutbad mate could commit. The surviving Blutbad would not recover from the loss of its mate and would eventually die, so the prohibition against self-harm was physiological, programmed into the brain and body of the bonded. Panic and despair welled up inside the Grimm and she wailed in anguish. Her cry of agony drove through Monroe's skull like a railroad spike. With the force of a battering ram, Monroe charged the bathroom door, sending splinters of wood flying and leaving the door hanging loosely on its hinges. The Blutbad stood in the doorway, hellfire lit his eyes from deep within, lupine features on full display. When the Grimm gazed up at Monroe's face, the blood drained from her face, no words could describe what she saw there, the unspeakable savagery, the terrible anger. Razor blade still in her hand, she brought it to her throat. With preternatural speed, the Blutbad was at the side of the tub, gripping the Grimm's neck tightly. She dropped the blade after only leaving a small puncture wound. Still gripping her neck, Monroe lifted the Grimm up and out of the tub and threw her on the floor. He was insane with fury, his eyes wide and wild. Standing over the cowering Grimm, his body trembled with barely contained rage. Hurt and betrayal ran through his veins like poison, burning him from the inside out. The mate-bond urged the Grimm forward, she needed to comfort the suffering Blutbad. He was hurting and she was the cause. She knelt at his feet, and in a risky act of submission, bared her throat to the Blutbad. Kneeling before her, the Blutbad leaned in and licked the Grimm's throat, worrying the tiny puncture wound. The Blutbad nuzzled the Grimm's neck and placed open-mouthed kisses up and down its length for several long minutes. Her subordination appeased and calmed the Blutbad somewhat, and he picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. Lying her down on the bed and then walking over to the closet, he retrieved two of her leather belts. Returning to the Grimm's side, he proceeded to tie her hands to the headboard. Nick was about to protest such treatment, but the glower on the Blutbad's face stilled any objection she thought to voice.

Now that the Grimm was safely bound and no longer a threat to herself, Monroe went down stairs and carried in the groceries. He left several items on the counter to prepare for dinner and the rest he tidily put away. Monroe was in his element; he liked to cook and knew his way around a kitchen. An hour later, the prep was done. Potatoes were baking in the oven, a steak and liver tartare was chilling in the refrigerator alongside of a dark chocolate mousse. Putting some water on the stove for tea, Monroe sighed contentedly and returned to the bedroom upstairs where the Grimm reposed.

"Are you going to untie me?" she questioned.

"That depends," he replied, "are you going to try to harm yourself again?"

Nick turned her head away from Monroe without replying. In a heartbeat, he was straddling her and with a rough hand viciously grabbed a mass of black hair and jerked her face toward him.

"I asked you a fucking question," he growled. "Are. You. Going. To. Hurt. Yourself. Again?" he bit out in a staccato clip.

"No," she said in a small voice.

"No, what?" he barked.

The Grimm just stared at Monroe, seemingly lost in the depths of his coffee-colored eyes.

"No, what?" he inquired in a gentler tone.

When he still received no response back, he untied the Grimm and dragged her to the full length mirror that hung on the wall. Standing behind her and gripping her arms in a bruising hold, he bellowed, "How could you even think of doing such a thing?" She looked so tiny and vulnerable standing in front of his towering figure. His eyes shifted from derangement to desolation. "You understand what that would mean, I know you do," he said in a defeated tone. "Why would you want to kill us both?" His hands ran across her upper body. One hand cupped her breast, and the other he buried in her thick hair. Gently tilting her head to the side, he kissed her cheek and neck. "There is nothing in the world more precious to me than what you see reflected in this mirror. You belong to me." His words were hushed but fervent. "I will not allow you to destroy what is mine," he said with finality.

He turned her around and continued, voice burning, "How can I ever trust you again?" The pain the Blutbad felt was palpable and filled the narrow space between them.

"Maybe you can't," she whispered, unable to meet his eyes, guilt pooling in her stomach.

"Get dressed, dinner's ready," and with that, he left.

Nick slipped on a simple black and white frock. Underneath she wore a lacy red bra and matching panties. She brushed her hair down quickly and took a look in the mirror. It was still jarring, her appearance. Slim body covered in fading bruises and healing wounds, skin deathly pale, eyes haunted. Dreamily, she stretched out a hand toward the reflected image and rested it on the cool surface of the mirror. Yes, this was no dream, but it didn't make it any less surreal. She stood there for a long time; so long in fact, that Monroe called up from the foot of the staircase, stating again that dinner was ready. Shaky and upset, she went downstairs.

Pulling herself together, Nick walked into the dining room, it looked quite inviting. A subdued fire burned in the fireplace. Monroe had dimmed the chandelier lights and had placed narrow candles of varying heights on the dining room table. The soft glow of the candles fell on the dishes and glasses that were set up on the table. Monroe had found the china, fine crystal and silver place settings that had been passed down in Nick's family, mother to daughter, for generations. Linen napkins completed the elegant tablescape. Nick could hear Monroe bustling around the kitchen. _Better him then me, she thought. _Nick looked out the bay window; it was raining again. She watched the last vestiges of daylight retreat. Soon night engulfed the house and the temperature began to drop. Hugging her arms, the Grimm could not suppress the chill that ran down her spine.

"Cold?" Nick jumped, Monroe was standing directly behind; she hadn't heard his approach. The Blutbad wrapped his arms around the Grimm, and nuzzled her ear. Nick leaned back into his embrace, humming her content. As hard as she tried, she could not resist the attraction she felt for the Blutbad. It was a biological imperative now, a compulsion that was impossible to deny. "You're so warm," she murmured. It was true; Blutbaden ran about 4-5 degrees hotter than human beings.

"Are you hungry?" he asked. "Famished," she replied. Over the past few days, Nick's body had refused most forms of conventional nutrition.

"I'm not surprised; you've barely eaten the past few days. But not to fret, I've prepared for you quite the culinary delight this evening. I think you're going to enjoy it, once the initial shock wears off." Monroe smirked as the Grimm whipped around to face him. The sharp movement turned out to be ill-advised. The Nick's ribs were still not completely healed, and a jolt of pain shot through her ribcage. Crying out, Nick doubled over and grasped her heaving chest. Monroe steadied her, a frown on his face. He didn't like the fact that his mate was in pain, and he didn't like the fact that their bonding could not advance while the Grimm was still this injured. Guiding her to a chair, he instructed her to sit. He picked up one of the crystal goblets and set it close. He then picked up a silver steak knife and made a deep, thick cut across his wrist. Turning his wrist over, he allowed the blood to drain into the goblet. When the wound healed several seconds later, he slashed his wrist again. He repeated this procedure until the glass was filled with his crimson blood. Lifting the glass to the Nick's lips, he told her to drink. Revulsion contorted her face. "I'm not drinking that!" she spat. Monroe sighed; perhaps a note of explanation was needed. "Blood, my blood, will help you heal, will speed up your recovery."

"How is that possible?" she questioned.

"Don't you recall? You studied Alpha Blutbaden: our mating habits, physiology, physical prowess, and such. You read about the transformative and healing effects that our blood has on a chosen non-Blutbad mate, right?"

Yes, she had read all about Blutbaden. How could she forget about the "compatibility transformation" process? She was living through it! But it didn't matter; there was no way she was drinking from that glass. Monroe seemed to sense this, and gripping the back of her head, brought the goblet to her mouth. "Drink," he commanded, exerting his Alpha control over the Grimm. She took a slip and closed her eyes. Never in her life had she tasted anything as divine as the Blutbad's blood. She took another sip. "So good," she moaned deep in her throat. Her throaty confession made Monroe's cock rock hard. He watched her drain the goblet, fighting a very strong urge to bend her over the table and fuck her like a wild beast. This was going to be a civilized diner he told himself. Lips stained scarlet, she held out the empty glass to Monroe, "More," she requested. "No, you don't want to ruin your appetite, now do you?" he questioned.

Monroe went back to the kitchen, while the Grimm sat staring at the empty glass. She picked it up and sniffed. _Gods, his blood smelled good too. _ Monroe returned with two dinner plates and placed one in front of her and the other in front of his chair and had a seat. Looking down at the plate (potatoes and tartare), the Grimm voraciously tucked in. _Raw meat and potatoes, her favorite, _she thought. It would have been an odd thought just a week ago, now it seemed perfectly natural. When they were both finished, Monroe ushered the dishes back to the kitchen and returned after a brief absence with the final course. Dessert consisted of the dark chocolate mousse he prepared earlier and cappuccino.

"Did you enjoy dinner," he inquired.

"Very much so, you're an excellent cook." Lulled by the excellent meal and Monroe's gentle company, Nick's earlier anxiety melted away. Depending on his mood, the Blutbad's presence could have a distressing or a calming influence on the Grimm. "I'm a bit full though."

"Really? Personally, I'm still a tad bit hungry. I could go for a little something else," he said, a predatory look in his eyes. The look on the Blutbad's face gave the Grimm the impression that the "little something else" was her. Blutbaden were known for devouring humans, a practice Monroe became reacquainted with just a few days ago. Standing up, Nick slowly unzipped her dress and allowed to it fall to the floor. At the sight of her lacy red bra and panties, Monroe stood up so quickly that his chair keeled over and hit the floor. Stalking around the table, Monroe moved with surprising grace and the assurance of an apex predator. Nick allowed him to gain some ground, but before he got too close, she whirled around, her long black mane taking flight, and darted off. _So, his little Grimm wanted to play_, he smiled. That would make conquest all the more sweet.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 9: Hush, hush, don't tell me cause it hurts**

After three weeks of convalescence, Nick returned to work. One of her primary objectives, now that she was back on duty, was to gather all of the information she could on David's murder. Hank had broken the news of David's murder to her about a week into her leave of absence. She remembered the afternoon well—Hank sitting at her kitchen table, words flowing copiously from his mouth in a rushed, yet vague manner. In summation, it appeared that David had been killed by some wild animal; the final coroner's report was still pending. Sadness over her friend's death was quickly replaced with a grim determination to discover all she could about the last moments of his life. Now that she was back at the precinct and the coroner's report had been officially issued, Nick requested to see a copy. But Hank always managed to come up with some excuse as to why that wasn't possible. In reality, he had been trying to shield Nick from the details of David's gruesome death; Nick realized that that was at the heart of all of his obfuscation. But s_he was a cop, for pity's sake, she could handle anything the file contained. _Hank walked in with Sergeant Wu, interrupting her reverie.

"Hi, Nick. It's getting late, heading home soon?" Hank inquired.

"I was just finishing up a few things and then I'm out."

"Well, have a good night and don't work too late."

Wu said his good-byes, and they both turned to leave when Nick spoke, "Hey, do you think that I could have a look…" But before she could even complete her sentence, Hank said, "No, Nick." Turning back around to face her, he continued, "We already discussed this. I don't think it would be a good idea at this point in time."

"Stop treating me like I'm some fragile, damsel-in-distress. I'm a cop, show me some respect and start treating me like one!" She was livid.

Hank's voice took on a conciliatory tone, "I do respect you, Nick, more than you know. You've been through a lot recently, and I'm just trying to spare you further pain right now. I hope you can understand why." He placed a hand on her shoulder, "Go home and get some rest, it's been a long day." Nick nodded her assent silently.

Once Hank and Wu were out the door, Nick went to Hank's office. Extracting the lock pick from her pocket that she had brought with her for this express purpose, she was able to open the office door. Once inside, she closed the door and went over to Hank's desk to turn on the lamp that resided there. Walking over to the filing cabinet, she searched for the file on David's murder. After locating it, she sat down at Hank's desk and began to peruse it. Fortunately, all of the crime scene photos had been neatly placed in a large envelope, which allowed her to read the case details before viewing the actual photos. The coroner's report was really tough to stomach. Certain salient details stood out: blunt force trauma to the jaw and chest, weapon/method unknown; heart removed from chest cavity, appears to have been partially devoured, examination revealed teeth marks which supports this conclusion; extensive bite wound pattern continues where removal of flesh from body is evident; appears that victim was attacked by a large canine or big cat (Note: sending bite wound findings to wild animal attack specialist for further analysis). _Large canine. It's not possible_, Nick thought. Finished with the coroner's report, that just left the crime scene photos. With trembling hands, Nick removed them from their envelope. Her stomach did a back flip, the scene was unimaginable. So much blood, and David's body, it looked as though some wild animal had torn him apart and eaten the pieces. Nick had had enough. She returned the file, locked the office back up and fled the precinct.

She couldn't go straight home. _He_ would be there, and she could not confront him in this present state of mind. She got in her car and drove, to nowhere in particular, just someplace far from _him_. Her cell phone rang, of course it was _him._ She was late and he was probably worried. She turned off the phone. Eventually, she came across a little late-night café. She went inside and ordered a latte. Having a seat by the window, she began to analyze all that she had read earlier.

_It all makes sense_, a little voice in her mind spoke up. _You had your suspicions all along. Listen to what your instincts are telling you._

_Maybe I'm jumping to the wrong conclusion, _she fired back_. Maybe it wasn't him; maybe it truly was a feral dog or a mountain lion. It's possible. _

_But not probable_, the voice said. _You remember how he was that night. _

_It doesn't matter, I love him. _

_You know what he is. He's a killer by nature. He's not human! _ The voice shrilled.

_You're right, I know exactly what he is, but that doesn't change a thing. He loves me, we're connected now. He would never intentionally harm me. I trust him, _she stated with finality.

_Fine, judge him by human standards, but know this, you do so at your own peril, _the voice warned.

Nick was done arguing with that little voice inside her head. She paid the bill and was back in the car headed for home. She arrived home around midnight. The house was dark inside, but she could sense his presence. She found him sitting on the sofa in the living room, staring blankly at the muted TV, an ancient black and white movie on the screen.

"If I ask you a question, will you promise to tell me the truth?"

The Blutbad exhaled audibly, he knew where this conversation was headed. "I've never lied to you, ever. Why would I start now?" He looked over at her, his eyes filled with calm acceptance.

"Did you kill and, and, d-devour David?" she whispered, voice dripping with revulsion. The crime scene photos flashed through her mind, and she felt the bile rise in her throat.

"So, I guess I can assume that you got your hands on the crime scene file this evening. Or is this one of your Grimm epiphanies?" His voice was slightly mocking.

"That doesn't answer my question."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Yes. The answer to your question is _yes_." No remorse was evident in his voice. Monroe stood up. "Does that sadden you? The death of your would-be suitor at the hands of your Blutbad lover." He scented the air, eyes turning red. "Or does it frighten you?" He said moving closer to the Grimm. She stood her ground. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of showing him the fear that she felt, although he could sense it, smell it.

"Come to me." It was more of a request than a command. He extended a hand, beckoned her with it. When the Grimm didn't move, he lowered his hand. Monroe frowned. "So little trust, after all this time, after all we've shared. Do you think that I would harm you? My mate? My bonded?"

"You killed a man." She countered.

"I've killed lots of men." The smile flitted across his face again. "But you already knew that. I've never tried to conceal who or what I am from you." It was true. Monroe had never tried to hide his nature or candy-coat his past. He had always been brutally honest with her. They stood facing each other; Monroe wore a stoic expression, resignation settling into his eyes. Nick's face was a composition of dread, doubt and fear; Monroe didn't know which one disturbed him more. The distance between them, though they never moved farther away from one another, grew into a yawning chasm. "I think you need a little time alone to reflect on things, to reflect on us. Wolves mate for life. My loyalty to you is absolute. I will never love another. Perhaps in time, you will be able to determine if your allegiance and love still belong to me."

Monroe turned to leave, and Nick rushed forward and clutched his arm. "Where are you going?"

"Home. There is no reason for me to be here any longer." He started walking towards to door again.

"So, before you leave; let me make sure I understand the game plan. I get my "alone time" to work out my problems. Mourn the loss of a friend murdered by my lover, who, by the way, feels zero remorse or regret. And once everything is just fine and dandy, then what? Should I just give you a call?"

"It's your decision." Monroe would not be goaded into an argument. He felt heartsick. How could he possibly explain what it was like to be true to himself and at the same time try and integrate into a world where he always had to hide what he truly was. Yes, at times, his methods were questionable, his behavior barbarous, but only when judged within the limited confines of a human-engineered society. And to further complicate matters, he had to go and fall in love with a Grimm. His love and devotion to Nick were deep, ingrained into the very fabric of his being. He only wanted to protect the Grimm, care and provide for her. He would die for her. There was nothing that he would not do for her, nothing that he would not sacrifice.

When Monroe remained silent, Nick turned to head upstairs, "You're a coward," she said under her breathe.

"What did you say?" Monroe asked quietly.

Nick was half way up the stairs, when she replied, "I said that you are a coward."

In an instant, Monroe bounded up the stairs, grabbed the Grimm and flipped her on back. The wooden stairs cut painfully into her back as his weight pressed against her. To call Monroe a coward was a terrible affront in the Blutbad world. She could feel a growl rumble through his chest. "Go ahead, get pissed off. What are you going to do about it?" She challenged.

"That is an excellent question that deserves an equally excellent response." He leaned down and kissed her lips. "I can start by educating bratty, little Grimms on the perils of insolence." He drifted to the Grimm's jaw, gently nipping and sucking. His upper canines descended and he drove them into her jawbone, leaving two deep puncture wounds. Shocked, Nick leveraged herself against the stairs and was able to dislodge the Blutbad with a powerful push. Monroe fell backwards, but with an agility that belied his size, was able to land at the bottom of the stairs on all fours. Nick turned on her heel and ran up the stairs, provoking Monroe's hunt-chase instinct. He pursued her up in the stairs, galloping in a quadrupedal fashion. Nick made it to her bedroom, slammed the door shut, and then quickly locked it. She realized that a locked door was a trivial hindrance to a two-hundred and twenty-five pound, angry Blutbad. Bringing her hand up to her face, she could already feel the wound healing. Leaning against the door, Nick looked down and saw the doorknob being twisted back and forth a few times before stopping. She could feel Monroe on the other side of the door, hear his soft breathing. The door creaked as though a heavy weight was leaning against it. The sound of protesting wood assailed her ears as Monroe's clawed hand traced deep grooves down the length of the door. He could so easily remove the obstacle that stood between them and let this primal drama play itself out. But Monroe would not give into his baser instincts, not tonight.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 10: Well it's…Too late…Tonight…To drag the past out into the light…We're one, but we're not the same**

Four weeks passed, and Nick had not seen or heard from Monroe. No calls, no texts, no emails, nothing. But she could hardly cast blame for she had not made any attempts at communication either. Perhaps it was her Grimm DNA that endowed within her an ability to resist the influence of the Blutbad. Who knew? But somehow she was able to stave off the compulsion to be with Monroe 24x7. It wasn't easy and it certainly wouldn't last, but if she could keep her cool, perhaps Monroe would be the first to cave.

And the Grimm was correct in her calculations; Monroe was having a harder time dealing with their separation. For a Blutbad, being denied access to one's mate was hell in no uncertain terms. The first week he had held it together pretty well, but four weeks was cruel and unusual punishment. Monroe wanted to give Nick a little time and space to work things out, to adapt to her new role as his mate. He knew that the changes she was experiencing were both physically and mentally taxing and in complete opposition to her Grimm nature. But four weeks, really, how could she bare their separation? Monroe decided that he would pay the Grimm a visit that evening.

ooo-ooo

Night was rolling in. The sun had been chased from the sky by storm clouds that mercilessly released a torrent of rain that soaked every creature unfortunate enough to be outdoors and unsheltered. Nick was in the kitchen preparing dinner when she heard a knock on her front door. It was unnecessary to look through the narrow window next to the door; she already knew who it was. Opening the door, her gaze fell upon a wet and wild-eyed Blutbad.

"You never called." He said without preamble, his voice slightly accusing.

"I needed some time, which, as I recall, you offered to give me."

"Four weeks?" He questioned dubiously.

"Four weeks, four months, what difference does it make?" Nick asked coldly. She still hadn't invited Monroe in.

"It makes a difference to me," he growled softly.

"I'm sorry, but I can't do this, not tonight." Nick went to close the door, but Monroe's hand shot out and prevented her from doing so. The door creaked under the opposing pressure being applied to it—Nick trying to close it, Monroe trying to keep it opened. "Are you planning on tearing another door off its hinges?" Nick spat, venom in her voice. Standing this close to the Grimm, Monroe was overpowered by her scent. She smelled different tonight. He breathed in deeply, eyes closing as Nick's scent awakened within him a primal urge to claim her right then and there. It was impossible to quell the feeling of hunger building up in his system, and Monroe could barely subdue the urge to throw his head back and howl at the murky sky above.

"Forgive me," he whispered. Confusion descended upon Nick's face, but before she could question Monroe as to why he needed forgiveness, the Blutbad muscled his way through the door and slammed it shut behind him. _Don't run, don't run. _The litany repeated itself over and over again in Monroe's mind as he stood looking down at the Grimm, his eyes intense. She ran…

She ran towards the kitchen where there was a door leading to the backyard. Too late she realized that her fleeing figure would only rile the Blutbad's instincts to hunt her down. Her escape was halted when two strong arms wrapped around her upper torso and dragged her down to the floor. Monroe crawled on top of the Grimm, pinning her to the floor with his full weight.

"You promised that you would never deny me again." He barked reproachfully, teeth bared and eyes crimson. Monroe ran his hands over the Grimm's body, claws shredding her clothes and leaving fine, red lines in their wake. "Mine." He whispered. In a few short moments, all that was left of her clothing was a discarded, tattered pile of unrecognizable material. Before Nick could protest, Monroe's mouth was on hers, tongue battering her lips before slipping in. His kiss was rough, insistent, and it left Nick unable to catch her breath. Monroe reared back to sit on his haunches and released the fasteners on his jeans, freeing his cock. He was so hard and had been almost constantly for the past four weeks. Pulling Nick forward, he positioned her on his lap and slowing impaled her on his rigid cock. Inch by inch, she gradually sank down until Monroe was fully sheathed within her. Monroe went to thrust into her, but Nick stilled him with a gentle hand to his chest. "Not yet, I just want to feel you inside me," she spoke, her voice a husky lilt.

Nick could feel Monroe's cock throbbing inside, could feel his body shutter with the effort it took to obey her request and remain still. She buried her face in Monroe's neck, breathing in his scent. Tongue and teeth alternated as she navigated the length of his neck, his jaw and then returned home to his mouth. Her hands slid up his back, fingers tangling in the curls that licked at the collar of his shirt. Sitting naked on Monroe's lap, while he was fully clothed, his cock buried deep inside her, was such an erotic thought that it made her hips buck forward. "Fuck me," she commanded, kissing his lips. Monroe happily complied. His thrusts were deep and languorous; his tongue mirroring the same movements in Nick's mouth. Monroe's hand slipped down between them and he began to finger her clit. The tender nub was already sensitive and it didn't take long for Nick to orgasm, her hips driving into Monroe's, a muted scream on her lips.

"Monroe, please, more," she pleaded. "Don't s-stop," she stuttered as another wave of arousal coursed through her body.

"I have no intention of stopping. I want you to cum over and over again," he breathed into her ear. "I'm going to fuck you until your cunt aches and your body trembles with your release." His teeth nipped at her neck, leaving a tiny red mark. Clutching her hips, Monroe guided Nick up and down the length of his cock, pulling out until just the tip remained inside her and then driving in to the hilt. Nails digging into his back, Nick could feel the desire welling up in her belly again. "I'm going to cum," she moaned.

"Yes," he hissed, a smirk shaping his lips. Nick pulled back and looked into Monroe's eyes, they were tinged a bright red, hunger evident in their depths. Her lips were upon his, her tongue forcefully gaining entrance to the hot cavern of his mouth. "Cum with me," she plead. She need ask him only once. Still sheathed inside her, Monroe gently laid Nick on her back. Spreading her knees, he positioned himself between them and began to fuck her in earnest. Monroe's climax was building quickly. Sweat glistened on his skin, muscles rippling from his exertions. He could feel Nick tightening around him, and knew that her release was close. When he felt her tipping over the edge, he followed and with a savage howl, released his seed. Nick could feel Monroe's cock pulsing as wave after wave of thick cum bathed her insides, could feel his cum flowing down her inner thighs.

His desire for the Grimm was relentless. At first, Monroe's ministrations were slow and tender, but they progressed to something more demanding and uninhibited. Again, the Grimm's scent assailed his senses, indefinably different, maddeningly arousing. Nick sensed the change in the Blutbad's demeanor, and an overwhelming feeling to defend and protect suffused her system. Nick was a Grimm, always had been and always would be, and no amount of Blutbad biochemistry could completely replace or eradicate her fundamental nature. Pushing the Blutbad off of her, she went to stand up, but Monroe would not allow it. "I'm not done fucking you," he spoke thickly, his hand grasping her wrist tightly. _Protect them. _With a speed and strength that she had not called upon in quite some time, Nick backhanded Monroe, his nose instantly erupting in a torrent of blood. Snarling, he lunged for the Grimm, but she was fast, and his hands closed upon empty air. Running into the living room, the scene of her battle with Stark, she scanned the room for a weapon. She spotted it, standing next to the fireplace, as Monroe walked into the room. Blood dripped down his face and onto the front of his shirt, but he made no attempt to wipe it away. "Nick," he hissed. The last time they had faced off, Monroe refused to be caught up in some primal drama, but fuck it, he wanted the Grimm, and he would do whatever it took tonight to satisfy his needs and hers.

They stood, facing one another, an uneasy détente settling in the room. "Stop fighting me. You and I are one now. There's no need for any of this. Please, I'm sorry. Let's just sit and talk this through," he suggested quietly. Monroe sniffed the air. He sensed fear, uncertainty…and something else. His face paled as understanding began to register in his mind. Looking at Nick's face, he could imagine how he must appear to her—eyes red and wild, face bloodied, fangs descended—the threat that he must pose. Monroe stepped toward Nick, he wanted to reassure her and make everything alright again. She whimpered. He hesitated.

_Protect them._ The voice commanded again. Turning on her heel, Nick grabbed her weapon of choice, the poker in the stand next to the fireplace, and ran out the door into the backyard. Outdoors, sheets of rain, battered by strong gusts of wind, poured down horizontally. Rolls of thunder vibrated the ground under her feet, while violent bolts of lightning illuminated the sky, banishing the night momentarily. Naked and shivering in the freezing rain, Nick waited for Monroe. Time passed, though she could not say how much, and still she saw no sign of him. Slowly, Nick crept toward the back door. Grimm senses on high alert, she continued through the door and entered the living room. He was gone. Nick sank heavily onto the sofa, pulling a throw over her chilled body. Looking down, she saw it. Resting on the coffee table was a note folded in half, a bloody fingerprint smudged across the otherwise unblemished whiteness of the paper. She picked it up and read…

ooo-ooo

Nick sat in the doctor's office waiting for her to return with test results. The Grimm hadn't been feeling quite right for the past several weeks and finally broke down and went to see her physician. The door opened and the doctor entered briskly, a smile on her face.

"I've reviewed your blood work results, and I believe I can attribute your recent symptoms to the fact that you're pregnant." The smile on her face persisted.

"Pregnant?" Nick whispered.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 11: Every move you make, every step you take, I'll be watching you**

Nick walked into the upstairs nursery and surveyed the three cribs that had been carefully arranged in the room. When the doctor had first told her that she was pregnant, Nick had been shocked. Motherhood was not something she had had on her agenda; especially after learning she was a Grimm. After the initial shock wore off, her world was once again upended when she discovered she was having triplets. _Good gravy! She was having a litter of pups, his pups. _As daunting as that prospect seemed at the time, she fiercely loved the tiny creatures growing in her belly, whatever species they turned out to be. Carrying Monroe's children was like carrying a piece of him inside her, and it comforted her. Walking over to the first two cribs, her gaze feel upon a set of identical twins slumbering peacefully. Each of the little boys had coffee-colored eyes and brown curly hair. Tiny fingers and toes ended in sharp little nails, and although the babies were only three months old, tiny sharp teeth were starting to break through their gums. Kissing each sleeping infant on the forehead, Nick then made her way over to the third crib. The twin's tiny sister was wide awake. Large, alert, crystal-blue eyes looked up at her. Unlike her brothers, the baby girl had straight ebony hair, just like her mother. Nick wondered what other traits the little girl had inherited from her. Bending down, Nick kissed the baby and told her to go to sleep. As though she understood, the infant closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

Nick went down stairs to make a cup of tea, as was her evening ritual. Her mind wandered back to the book she had read many months ago, the one dedicated to Blutbaden. A particular paragraph stood out in her mind. _However, Mother Nature, not one to be stonewalled, incorporated into the Alpha Blutbad's physiology a unique blend of chemicals that could alter a non-Blutbad mate, so that he or she would then be compatible._ How true it turned out to be, Nick smiled.

The time leading up to the delivery of the triplets had sped by quickly. At times, Nick's morning sickness had been overwhelming, probably due to the high level of Blutbad hormones coursing through her system. Rosalee down at the spice shop had concocted a special tea for Nick that had helped ease the worst of her symptoms. Hank too had been very helpful and supportive, especially when it came to helping her prepare the nursery. He was a wonderful friend, and never questioned her about the circumstances of her pregnancy. Hank had his suspicions about a certain clock repairman, but Nick would tell him when she was ready, and that was good enough for him.

Sipping her tea, Nick pulled a well-handled piece of paper from her sweater pocket. It was the note that Monroe had left on the coffee table many months ago. Her thumb moved across the bloody fingerprint, now a rusty brown color. Bringing it close to her nose, she breathed in the lingering scent of the Blutbad. Opening the note, she began to read…

_My love,_

_Soon, you will understand all that has happened here tonight and why. Until then, please know that I love you. I will never be far. _

_Monroe_

After finding out that she was pregnant, Nick went to the trailer and started reading everything she could about Bludbad mating practices. She learned that Blutbad females become solitary creatures when they are expecting, and males are not welcomed until several months after the delivery of the offspring. It was rare, but not unheard of, for a male Blutbad to harm his own offspring. Being extremely territorial and possessive of his mate, even their own offspring could be viewed as rivals. As a precaution, the male was always introduced slowly and cautiously over time. So that explained Nick's fiercely protective posturing toward Monroe that night. She was defending her future offspring from a potentially dangerous male Blutbad. And as for Monroe's behavior, that too could be explained. Nick's scent that evening had driven him wild with desire. In an attempt to curb the aggressive nature of the male Blutbad and foster a gentler, more amorous feeling, the female released a potent array of pheromones. But when it came to male Blutbaden, sex and aggression often went hand-in-hand. Regrettably, no system was perfect.

It was getting late, so Nick decided to retire for the night. Upstairs, she opened her bedroom window. The air outside was warm, but pleasant. A mild breeze gently swayed the sheer curtains hanging on either side of the window. Nick turned on the baby monitor and got into bed. As she started to drift off, she could have sworn she heard in the distance a solitary, protracted howl. Its subdued timbre echoed through the neighborhood and then all was silent again. A delicate ray of moonlight slipped through the parted curtains, its soft glow resting upon Nick's pretty face. A tiny smile graced her lips as his name tumbled quietly from her mouth and was carried off into the night.

o-o

It was back again, that feeling of being watched, her every move chronicled, scrutinized. But this time around, she felt no threat from the unseen presence, no dread or fear, only anticipation. This time, she knew without a doubt who her invisible stalker was, who it had been all along. He would return to her soon. Nick would be waiting.

Finis…


End file.
